


Say My Name

by CallMeHopeless



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is Oliver, Call Me By Your Name AU, First Person Narration, Fix it of sorts, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kink Meme, Loads and loads of pining and stream of conciousness, M/M, Merlin is Elio, Sort Of, There is a peach in here but its not used for anything than eating, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14375400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeHopeless/pseuds/CallMeHopeless
Summary: Merlin is used to having house guests over the summer and he's never had any problems with them. That is until Arthur arrives and turns his world upside down.





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cominupforair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cominupforair/gifts).



> This is a fill for [This](https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=23566#t23566) Kink Meme Prompt.
> 
> Full disclosure, I have not watched the movie yet but I am incredibly infatuated with the book. Of course, this will in no way ever compare to the genius that is André Aciman but I hope that you'll enjoy it for some light spring reading :) Also: I obviously couldn't let Merlin suffer as much and as long as Elio so...yeah. There is a fix it of sorts. I still hope you enjoy it... *still runs and hides*
> 
> Thanks to [Whateverdude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverdude) for the wonderful beta-ing!

1.  
My father always said new friendships were the most fun, returning friendships were the most happy and lasting friendships the most precious. The moment he stepped out of the little taxi right outside the gate to our estate, I held my breath. His already sun-tanned skin hidden underneath dark blue shorts and a light blue shirt, the top two buttons already undone, with his golden hair and blinding smile, I knew. I knew what kind of friendship I wanted this to be.

I went to greet him, to welcome him to my family home, and held out my hand, trying not to trace the drop of sweat running down his neck and onto his chest with my eyes.  
“Merlin,” I said.  
The blonde man said nothing. He nodded and indicated his suitcases.  
“Cheers.”  
And there it was. The first and only word he spoke to me at that first meeting. I would come to love and loathe this word as the man's stay at Ealdor continued.  
Cheers.  
Dismissive but friendly enough.  
He said it constantly. It irked me. Affected me. Not in the right way.  
Cheers.  
I shook my head. Brought the suitcases inside. Carried them upstairs into my own old room – well, my current room. I just have to evacuate whenever father has one of his house guests stay with us. He gets one every summer. A student from a different country or one of the big cities to write their dissertation in peace while enjoying the English countryside. He invites them to be intellectually challenged himself – whatever that means. Balinor never invites students with the same academic background as he says he is “paid in intellectual stimulation” after all. I heard this explanation so often that all I could do at this point was roll my eyes and move my lips to whisper the words along. Paid in intellectual stimulation. Intellectual stimulation. Stimulation. I usually don't get anything out of it.

When I went back downstairs, I saw this year's houseguest lounging in my favourite armchair.  
“Merlin,” father's voice boomed.  
“I trust you've met Arthur?”  
I just nodded. If Arthur could get away with not talking, so could I. It was the safer choice anyway, as I watched Arthur sink back into the cushions with his perfectly moulded shoulders, long neck and content look on his face. My cushions, I thought. They have me all over them. Now they have him all over them, too. I didn't dare to look too closely or stare too long but I wanted to. Oh how I wanted to. How was it even possible to feel such a strong tug of attraction to a man I had only just met?  
Cheers, my head reminded me.  
“Cheers,” Arthur said in just that moment as our housekeeper Maggie brought him some lemonade.  
Cheers.

I went into the garden. The weather was quite warm for the English countryside. Warm enough to sit outside. Not warm enough to lose the light cardigan I usually wore, this wasn't Italy, mind you.  
It seemed like Arthur hadn't gotten that memo though, because not half an hour after I sat down and opened my book at the marked place, Arthur swapped my chair in the living room for a patch of grass in the sun. Wearing nothing but his shorts and sunglasses.  
Tan, so tan. I could count every single muscle now that there wasn't a shirt hiding them.  
I couldn't tell whether or not he could see me staring because of his sunglasses. Was he asleep?  
Aware of me staring?  
Did he want me to stare?  
Probably not. Maybe? No.  
Cheers.  
“What are you going to be a doctor in?” I asked. Not only because father rarely let actual medical students stay with us but also because I couldn't stand the silence.  
Couldn't stand watching him without knowing, guessing but never knowing if he knew and if he did, whether or not he wanted me to watch.  
He sat up lazily, slowly pulled his sunglasses down a bit and I was glad. It wasn't sunny enough for sunglasses anyway.  
“Architecture.”  
I nodded, not breaking the eye contact.  
He could have said anything, anything in the world and I would have found it fascinating. I had never felt this way before and it scared me. What was it about him?  
I'd had girlfriends before, boyfriends before... none of them had me rendered this speechless. This was... messy. That's what it was, my head was a mess. Too many thoughts were cramped in there, not all of them good, some of them even bad.  
Architecture.  
Cheers.  
I didn't see him coming and jumped a bit, when I could hear his voice right next to my ear.  
“What are you reading?”  
“A book,” I said, grateful that my voice didn't break.  
He was leaning over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse and his strong neck was right there.  
It would be so easy for me to just lean over and...  
“Is it any good?”  
“Yeah,” I said, eyes still fixed to his neck.  
“Very.”  
He leaned back and gripped the back of my chair with both hands. I could still feel his presence. Everywhere.  
Everywhere.  
It was getting embarrassing.  
I tried lowering my book a bit and still seem casual. I looked at him. He stared back at me. I noticed for the very first time that his eyes were a bright blue. Like mine.  
Funny, I thought. I felt lifetimes away from him, completely different, like a shadow to his light and here we were, sharing the same colour of our eyes.  
He smiled, slowly, showing his perfect teeth. His perfect teeth that I wanted all over me and nodded.  
Then he went back to his patch of grass.  
Leaving me breathless. Shuddering. Silently cursing my father for picking him. Why him? Why me? Was this a test?  
I shook my head and continued reading. My body relaxed, I willed my mind to do the same. The sun slowly went down and painted the world in the most beautiful pink and orange. Painted him. That's what he looked like. Like a painting, a celebration of colour and beauty. Lying in the green grass, with his shorts and his hair and his teeth. Shadows falling in perfect angles over him.  
That must be what perfection looked like.

2.

He'd been at the house for a week and I slowly started adjusting to his presence. He only sometimes caught me off-guard, for example when I was playing Bach how Mozart would have played him on the piano and he would come in and just... listen. And watch. And nod. And smile this little smile that seemed too intimate to be directed at me. Directed at what I did, directed at the most intimate thing that I had in me, my music, my soul, my heart.  
“I can show you around,” I offered one evening while we were having dinner in the garden underneath our old oak tree.  
My father instantly expressed how this was the most “marvellous idea” I'd ever had. Arthur's face was illuminated by the colourful fairy lights my mother had hung around the tree branches. He smiled.  
“Cheers,” he said.  
I nodded. I didn't have anything more to say to that.  
My father laughed.  
“You young folk and your slang,” he grinned.  
“I love it! Language exists to be altered by new generations.”  
I didn't tell him that the word had been around for generations before Arthur in the big cities. Maybe in the smaller ones, too. Not in Ealdor though. We used proper pronunciation and were ever so polite to each other. May I have a look at the camera in your window case, please, sir? Why thank you very much for your trouble.  
That's how it always was, that's how it always had been.  
Now here he was, waltzing all over that, throwing “cheers” around.  
Arthur just grinned at my father, enjoying it when he received a compliment. I imagined that that would be the look on my face if Arthur ever decided to give me one. He probably never would though. Why should he? I was just the seventeen year old son of the guy he was staying with for the summer. He'd go back to his university and get married to a beautiful girl who wouldn't stare at his neck too long or thought about his teeth in such great detail.  
He was at a good age to marry, too, wasn't he?  
I tried to recall his age from where I had read his application to stay with us a couple of months ago. Twenty four he must be. He would be twenty seven by the time I turned twenty. I would keep him young. I would bring home words like “cheers,” altering the language like I am supposed to do at my age.  
I sighed.  
There would be no home. No bringing home to. No him and me, not together. Ever. Why would he? He'd known me for a week. He didn't even necessarily go out of his way to interact with me except for... except for when I played my music.  
In that moment, all I wanted to do was to play music. For all eternity. If that would make him stay forever. Playing forever. Figuring out his favourite piece and play it and play it and play it until I and the way I played his favourite piece would be a fixed part of his life. A part he could never let go.  
“Tomorrow then,” I nodded and got up.  
I went to bed early. There was no reason for me to sit around and listen to my parents bicker when I was going to spend all day with Arthur when I woke up. All day.

3.

I tried not to stare when he walked towards me. Tried to concentrate on holding two bikes in an upright position, without shaking preferably.  
“Morning,” he said.  
I handed him his bike.  
“Cheers,” he said.  
I didn't say anything. What was there to say? No problem? No, not me. You're welcome? Too Ealdor. Nothing it was.  
We made our way into town while I explained a couple of things, pointing out interesting facts like:  
“these cornfields have round shapes because the farmer thought it channelled his chi better this way”  
“this little bakery burned down a couple of years ago and the whole village helped rebuild it”  
“this is the school I went to as a child”  
All I got in return was a smile.  
It was enough. More than enough, even, because they were his private smiles. The ones I still feel like I don't deserve. I stopped in front of the local bookshop and asked if it was alright if I went in for a second.  
“Of course,” Arthur said, sounding way too grown up. As if he was allowing a child five minutes at a candy shop. Maybe that was what it was to him. Me, a child, spending five minutes in a candy shop. He followed me dutifully as I roamed the shelves for something new and exciting to read. I stopped in front of the poetry collection when I heard a soft snort coming from behind me.  
I turned my head to look at him, eyebrows raised, silent question asked.  
“Poetry, Merlin? Really.”  
I nodded.  
“What do you have against poetry?”  
He shook his head, still snickering.  
“Nothing.”  
I nodded. Nothing indeed.  
I picked up a copy from a local poet. A young woman named Rosie Tracey. She was my highschool teacher and she made me fall in love with poetry. I smiled as I flipped through it. This was her third collection and I had absolutely adored the first two. I was reading a sonnet about desire when I felt hot breath on my cheek. In the corner of my eye I saw that Arthur was reading the poem animatedly, his lips moving with the words. I blushed. It made him look so young. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration as he murmured the words out loud. When he was done, he continued to stare longer at the words in front of him. Finally, he huffed.  
“It's beautiful.”  
“You sound surprised.”  
I couldn't help myself but tease him. I wanted to tease him for the rest of eternity. No one should ever again witness Arthur whispering the words along as he read them but me. I wanted his word-whispering to be mine. I wanted him to be mine.  
By the time I looked back up, he was gone.  
Might as well. I bought two copies of the book as if on impulse. Placed them carefully in my messenger bag and indicated that I was ready to go.  
Back home we went.  
We stopped in front of the house and I offered to put away his bike for him.  
“Cheers.”  
Of course.

Over dinner, he told my parents how fascinating he found Ealdor and that he was so glad that he had come and that he decided to go out that evening.  
My ears rang. Go out?  
He hadn't even asked me if I wanted to come with.  
“I saw a discotheque on our way back and would like to mingle more with the locals,” he explained pushing a whole asparagus into his mouth. As if he couldn't wait to get away. Did he want to get away?  
Soon after that I excused myself and went to my room. That was to say the guest room. Because Arthur was staying in my room. They were right next to each other and it was a special kind of torture that the walls were so thin. I could hear Arthur moving about. I kept wondering what he was doing? Was he dolling himself up for a night out? Was he trying to pull? Would he bring anyone back here? A girl? A guy? Anyone that wasn't me?  
Suddenly, it was quiet. I sighed and glanced out of the window, just to see him riding his bike across the field and in the direction of town. He was riding there with me that morning. Had he already forgotten?  
The two poetry books lay on my desk, laughing at me. I didn't dare read another poem. I had enough desire already, thank you very much.  
I left my door open. Just a couple of centimetres. Why? I am not sure. Maybe I wanted to be closer to him when he came back. Maybe I wanted to hear his slow footsteps after he'd had too much to drink. Maybe I wanted to make sure that he was alone.  
I told myself all of this.  
When in reality, all I was hoping for was that he would find his way into my room instead of his own. In my bed instead of his.  
I suddenly felt cold and alone. As if my body needed another body next to it – needed his body next to it. If he'd just nudge my door open instead of his, took off his clothes and climbed in next to me. I'm sure I would be alright.

4.  
I used to be irritated by people who claimed to be in love at first sight. Now, sitting here in week four, I realise that I have been pining after Arthur since the moment he arrived. Was it love, though? Or something more fundamental. Something more. Something that you feel deep within without really even realising it. Maybe it's longing, it might be lust, I know it to be plain and fundamental desire and it started to drive me crazy.  
He went out every night.  
Every night that he went out, I couldn't sleep. Who was he with? Was he the same person he was with me or was he someone different? And if so, was he his true self with me or with other persons. Please, I begged in my mind, please don't let him be his true self with any other person than me.  
Please.  
Arthur still frequented that small green patch of grass in the garden. I still liked sitting there, reading. Arthur always made fun of what I read. I just blushed and nodded, not able to disagree with him.  
Arthur still listened to me play the piano.  
But he wasn't there as much anymore.  
“Cheers”  
“Goodbye”  
“Later”  
If it wasn't for those three words, I wouldn't even know if he was with us most days.  
However, I knew, I simply knew when he was near me. My neck started to tingle and my insides dried to qualify for the summer olympics.  
“Cheers,”  
I shook my head, trying to make it stop. Trying not to hear that word anymore in his deep and low voice. Because then, my thoughts would automatically stray to other things he could say in that voice which was more along the lines of “just there,” and “more,” and “I love you”.  
I thought about him coming into my room every night. Even more so when I could hear him move about in his own room.  
I wanted to touch him so badly it almost started to physically hurt. Of course, I would never say any of this. To anyone. If you asked me tomorrow, I would probably not even admit it to myself.

At dinner, my father asked how his dissertation was coming along and Arthur nodded.  
“Fine,” he mumbled around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.  
“I'm going into town tomorrow to have the first draft printed and bound.”  
Father nodded and I tried very, very hard not to look at how Arthur's Adams apple bobbed while swallowing. Which I didn't find attractive at all.  
I must have zoned out because suddenly, his blue eyes were on mine, questioningly, enquiringly and a little confused.  
“Uh, what?”  
“I said it would be a good idea if you accompanied Arthur into town tomorrow,” father said, luckily completely unaware that I could not for the life of me take my eyes off Arthur, especially when he was looking back and making me feel so very bare and vulnerable and...  
“Yeah, sure.”  
I instantly wished I hadn't replied as quickly as quickly as I did. Because if I had waited, drawn another breath or two, I would have had these eyes, these gorgeous blue eyes on mine for another moment. I wanted them on me for all the moments in the universe. I blinked and stared at my food, my appetite having completely vanished.  
I longed for the moment when the six weeks would be up and my heart ached out of fear from the moment that I will have to say good bye.  
That night, Arthur stayed in.  
I could hear him moving around and I imagined him coming in. Imagined how his eyes would sparkle in the darkness, how his hands would look on my skin, burning into my skin, in the flash of moonlight that would come through my window.  
How he would smile and I would stop breathing for a moment. And another.  
How soft his skin would be under my hands, my lips...  
I finally fell asleep.

5.

I tried to steal glances at him. For him, nothing had changed since we went to town for the first time together. For me? Neither, actually. I still wanted him. Only that the want only grew stronger with each day. So, so strong.  
I didn't dare to speak, didn't dare to say anything out of fear that the thing I would say would be something completely inappropriate.  
We stopped in front of the copy shop and he went inside. I waited. Watched the muscles in his back as that was all I could see of him while he was talking to the shop keeper. I willed myself to look away but found that I couldn't. What exactly was it about him that made my heart beat faster and made my breath come in shallow huffs, leaving me light headed.  
I came back out again.  
“Alright, he said they will be done in about 90 minutes.”  
I nodded.  
“Want to get coffee?” he asked.  
I nodded again.  
For once, the sun was shining so it was not at all surprising that the café was full of people, laughing and having the time of their lives by the look of it. Everyone except me. And Arthur, who scowled at the tables.  
“I know a good place to sit not far from here,” I said and had invited him – without immediately realising – to my favourite spot in the whole world.  
He looked at me as if searching for something and then gave a short nod.  
“I'll get us the coffee's to go then?”  
It was my turn to nod.  
I wish I could express myself more in actual words. I wish he wouldn't look at me as if I was an unsolvable puzzle.  
And I wish I wasn't this infatuated with him.  
When he came back with two styrofoam cups containing hot liquid, I almost sighed. If I squinted my eyes and could ignore the voice in the back of my head, I could almost convince myself that this was a date. Almost.  
I took his bike (which earned me a “Cheers”) and walked towards the edge of town.  
“Isn't that the direction we've just come from, Merlin?” he asked, sounding slightly amused.  
I nodded again.  
“You never wanted to see an awesome secluded spot so I never showed you.”  
He raised his eyebrows.  
“And now I'm qualified?”  
I shrugged.  
“Free coffee makes me do things.”  
I am not sure if I imagined the sharp intake of breath behind me or if it was really there. I steered our biked through a very narrow spot between two trees and instantly spotted the cliff I spent so much time sitting on. Usually alone.  
Arthur whistled behind me.  
“This place is beautiful,” he murmured and set the coffee cups town on the large stone platform while I secured the bikes against a tree.  
I feigned nonchalance, when in all honesty I was just as excited about the spot.  
I sat down next to him, trying to leave enough space between us. Nevertheless, I could smell his cologne in the breeze and quickly concentrated on my beverage.  
“Are you here often?” he asked, still looking around in wonder.  
“Yeah,” I murmured and when he looked at me encouragingly, I even continued:  
“I usually read. Or you know, just... am.”  
That earned me a light chuckle.  
And really, who had given him permission to look so good during chuckling? All it did to me was scrunch up my nose in a really unattractive way.  
“No late-night dates then?”  
“No.”  
“Morning shags?”  
I paused.  
“No.”  
“Why not?”  
I shrugged. Again, trying to feign nonchalance.  
“Haven't found anyone I want to shag up here yet,” I said and looked him square in the eye, “this place is pretty special to me.”  
He held my gaze and I was starting to crumble underneath it.  
Suddenly, his eyes flicked down to my mouth and it was as if my body acted on its own accord. I leaned over and pressed our lips together. Hard.  
I didn't have the strength or the patience or the nerves to be soft.  
When I noticed that he had gone still and didn't kiss me back, I broke it. I didn't apologise, apologising felt stupid seeing as this was what I wanted so desperately.  
“Merlin,” he started but I just bit my lip, trying to savour every last trace of Arthur on me, in me.  
“What would your father say,” he whispered and fingered a loose thread on his shirt. The goddamned shirt that revealed half his toned chest and that made it so, hard to think.  
“What indeed,” I murmured and sipped my coffee. Suddenly I was too hot. What was he saying? Was he rejecting me because of me or because of my father? Or because of both?  
We sat in silence until it was time to go and collect his manuscript. We rode our bikes in silence.  
We walked into the house in silence.  
Mother asked if we had fun.  
I nodded and Arthur started a whole conversation about how much fun we had.  
I went into the kitchen just to have something to do without looking like I'd run a mile as soon as we got home. I wouldn't give him that. I wouldn't want that for me either.  
I stared at the fruit bowl and carefully selected fruit to take up to my room. I decided on an apple, grown in our neighbours garden, a peach, grown in our own and a couple of grapes fresh from the farmers market.  
I gave a short nod to my mother and Arthur before heading up.  
Unconsciously leaving the door open. I felt hot all over, not sure whether it was the sun, the exercise or the embarrassment but I stripped down to my boxer briefs nevertheless. I laid on my bed and took a bite from the peach. It was sticky and sweet and all I could ever want if I couldn't have Arthur.  
Arthur.  
How could he be so normal to my mother?  
Why hadn't he kissed me back?  
I was very clear about not really taking random people to my spot, so why was he so surprised.  
I shook my head, indulged in another bite of the delicious fruit and set it aside. I sighed.  
Two more weeks and then I would never have to see him again.  
I could feel the start of a whole ripping right through my chest but I knew that it was better this way. Better than to have to be around him for any longer than that, better than...

My door creaked open. My eyes shot up, looking right into Arthur's piercing ones.  
He sighed and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it and looking at me. Just looking.  
“You...” he cut himself off, screwed his eyes shut and opened them right when I licked the remaining traces of the peach off my lips.  
“I?”  
Instead of answering, he let out a low growl before he rushed to my side and pressed his mouth to my mouth. I couldn't help but moan at the contact and noticed absently that my hands were shaking while his slid to the back of my neck to keep me. Or to hold me. Or to steady him.  
“I want you,” I whispered low against his lips, eyes closed so he couldn't see just how much I wanted him.  
I laughed. A low, silent laugh, the escaping breath tickling my lips.  
“Not how much I want you, Merlin. Not how long I've wanted you. I thought about not getting out of that taxi because you were there and you looked so good and I knew... I knew that this couldn't end well for me.”  
He pressed our foreheads together and we just breathed against each other. His hand running over my back slowly in a soothing motion. The question was, was he trying to soothe me or him? I couldn't look away from his lips. His perfect, slightly reddened panting lips and pressed mine onto them once more. I wanted to save everything to memory. How his hand felt on my back, his lips against mine, his breath on my face. I never wanted this to stop. And then he pulled away. He held me at an arms length and bit is lower lip nervously.  
“I shouldn't,” he whispered.  
“Do you want to?”  
He laughed, breathlessly.  
“So much, Merlin. So much.”  
I edged closer, my brain fogged up with so much want. I let my eyes roam over his body and then my hands, fingertips grazing every inch of naked skin I could manage to reach. Until it wasn't enough anymore.  
“Merlin,” Arthur growled and made me look up. Made me look at his face, the face of utter concentration.  
I switched my fingers for my lips and kissed every inch of his body he allowed me to reach. His face, his neck, his collarbone, his knees, his fingers one by one. It wasn't enough.  
“More,” I panted and it came out like a beg. Arthur made a sound at the back of his throat until he started undressing.  
I knew that this was the logical next step, knew that this was coming and yet I started to feel nervous. I was consumed by my desire and didn't even once think about what it would mean to finally get what I wanted. Yet, I couldn't help but be nervous, breathing coming harder and faster and finally seemed to stop completely when he touched me.

Soon, the room was filled with heavy breathing and I was on fire. Everything he touched seemed to melt under his fingers and I couldn't help but whimper, while pressing closer to him. Closer, I needed to be closer. Never enough.  
I tried to keep my eyes open, tried to be in the moment as much as I could but it was nerve wrecking, seeing him so out of it. Knowing that the reason for the sweat running over his temple was me. Knowing that I was the reason for the sounds escaping his mouth. It was too much.  
“Are you okay?” he asked in a hushed voice for the umpteenth time, as if I would come to and run away if he spoke any louder. A hollow laugh escaped my lips as he kissed me and moved in me and intertwined our fingers so they were resting next to my head together. Together.  
“I'm perfect,” I smiled.  
And I was. Suddenly the universe seemed so much wider, the world so much more full of possibilities than it had just an hour ago.  
I let myself go and enjoyed the moment fully.  
“Say my name,” I finally muttered. I hadn't meant to and if I hadn't been so far gone, I probably would have been embarrassed. But I loved how he said my name. And in this moment, in this instant, I needed a constant reminder that it was him with me. That it was him in me.  
“Merlin.”  
He kissed the corner of my mouth softly and moved his face to rest against my ear.  
“Merlin,” he whispered again.  
“Merlin,” he finally panted and I couldn't help but keep my eyes shut, trying to savour the sound of his voice for all eternity.  
“Merlin.”

6.

I treasured every stolen kiss behind bushes. Every touch that lasted longer than was considered appropriate, every lingering look. A couple of days after we made love, I gave him the book. The book of poetry I bought for him. I need him to know how much I desired him, wanted him, loved him. I wrote an inscription, which said: “I love how you play me the same way you love how I play Mozart”  
I hoped that it was enough. I hoped that he would get the message. Because I really wasn't as good with words than I was with reading them. I wasn't as good with words than I was playing the piano. I needed him to know.  
I saw the way my father started looking at me, at us. I wasn't sure how to cope with it because I was pretty certain that one look at my face and my feelings were laid bare for everyone to see.  
I really wasn't surprised when he called me in his office exactly one week before I would have to say goodbye to Arthur.  
“You love him,” he said matter of factly. There was no room for doubt.  
“Yes.”  
“And he loves you.”  
Again, it was a fact, not a question. My heart started beating faster and faster in my chest. I had no idea how my father would react, but in that moment all I could think about was: Did he really love me?  
As if I had said all of that out loud, my father cleared his throat.  
“He does. He is almost as obvious as you are.”  
I turned red. How obvious exactly was I?  
“Listen Merlin,” he said and sat up straighter. I knew he meant business. It was his power pose.  
“Raw love like the love I see between you two is hard to find. Most people never do. My heart aches everytime you look at one another so adoringly, so absolutely lost that I have come to the conclusion that it is high time I took my fatherly role seriously and tell you to pursue the young man.”  
I stared at the floor, heart loud in my chest, loud in my ears. I wasn't sure if I'd heard correctly.  
“He's leaving soon,” I muttered, much sadder than I wanted to.  
My father nodded.  
“And why do you not go with him?”  
This made me look up.  
“To, to London?”  
My father nodded and leaned back in his chair again.  
“You need to go to university somewhere. Might as well do it in London.”  
My head was reeling.  
“But it's so expensive, where will I live? I would need three jobs just to pay for food, I'll-”  
He shut me up by holding up two fingers.  
“It's all taken care of, if you want it.”  
He took a book from the small coffee table next to him and opened it, making it clear that the conversation was over.  
Wide-eyed, I left his study just to tumble into Arthur's arms who was leaning against the wall outside the room, looking up at me through these lashes and not helping my inner fight with myself whatsoever.  
“He talked to you, then?” he asked.  
I nodded.  
“I had the same talk,” he admitted, looking shy and completely out of place. I adored him even more in that moment.  
“What do you think?” I asked, curious yet afraid. Depending on his answer, he could make my heart break into a million pieces and I wasn't sure if I was able to handle it.  
“I think... that you are young. That you are much, much younger than me. I think that you will probably wake up one morning and ask yourself what the hell you were doing with me. I think it would be better if you stayed here.”  
There it was. The answer I dreaded and feared. My whole being turned cold. I felt tears prickling behind my eyes and I was unable to remember how to breathe correctly.  
“This is it, then?” I whispered.  
“I was your summer fling?”  
He shook his head, opening his mouth and closing it again. Sighed. Turned around and left. Left me standing there, heart ripped out, every fiber of my being feeling raw and exposed. How did he transform me into a quivering mess within five weeks?  
I have no idea for how long I stood there looking after him. But that was the last time I'd seen him. I couldn't bear to look at him anymore. Couldn't bear to hear his voice, could hear it still in my mind: “Cheers.”  
I couldn't bear to see him leave. To just casually walk out of my life with a smile on his face, a “Cheers” on his lips and his golden hair, the tan skin, the perfect, perfect skin.

Our housekeeper told me as soon as he had left. I didn't leave my room for another two weeks.

7.  
I ran my hand through my hair in a nervous gesture. I had no idea what I was doing here. No idea if coming here was the biggest mistake of my life.  
Arthur had left my life exactly five years ago.  
He was probably married by now, I mused. He was probably married with kids. I prayed that he wasn't.  
My friend Will wanted to come see an exhibition in London. I came with him. Left him to go alone to the museum and made my way to his university instead. I knew that he was teaching now. Not making a name for himself designing buildings. Pity. I would give everything to live in something he made. To constantly be in something he had had in his mind. It felt like being in him.  
I felt foolish to stand in front of his office like that. Hand raised, not quite able to knock. What if he didn't want to see me? What if he hated me? Worse, what if he didn't remember me?  
He was still everything on my mind and I closed my eyes for a second, bracing myself until the door was suddenly yanked open.  
I stared into a pair of blue eyes.  
He looked tired.  
His hair was mussed and the first three buttons of his shirt undone.  
My eyes landed on his mouth, agape, as if in shock.  
“Hi,” I finally made myself say.  
I almost expected to be told off, or reminded of his office hours. What I did not expect was however that he simple whispered my name.  
“Merlin.”  
Over and over again until a smile broke out on his face and he pulled me into a tight hug.  
I buried my face in his shoulder and tried to will my tears down. He remembered me.  
He ushered me into his office, still tightly embraced and I dared to press a kiss against the side of his neck.  
“What are you doing here?” he asked, still smiling at me.  
I swallowed hard. It was so easy to get used to his smile. To his kind eyes, to his glistening skin.  
“I'm in London over the weekend,” I said.  
I was well aware that that was not an answer to his question. But I didn't know what to say.  
I constantly think about you?  
I needed to see you again for the sake of my sanity?  
I love you?  
I need you?  
Don't leave me?

He looked at me expectantly as if he wanted me to say all of that. What I did say eventually, was:  
“Why did you leave me?”  
His face fell and it was obvious that this wasn't something he wanted to talk about.  
“I didn't want to,” he finally said, quietly.  
“Then why did you?”  
He took a deep breath and sat down on his desk, crossing his arms.  
“I was too much in love with you. I was scared that you would come here, meet new people, people your age, fall in love and... break me.”  
“So instead you just broke me?”  
His eyes snapped up to mine from where he was staring at the floor, searching my face for something only he knew.  
“I didn't know that I could.”  
I laughed bitterly.  
“Arthur, you had my whole heart in your hands.”  
He nodded, absently.  
“You had mine, too.”  
The silence that stretched out between us was painful. I had no idea what to say. I scanned his room for something, anything to comment on, just to end this wretched silence until my eyes landed on a book. Neatly stacked into the small book case at the back of his office. One small volume of poems between huge books on architecture.  
I took it out. It looked battered and far older than a book of five years should look. A couple of pages were torn and when I landed on the very first page, my breath hitched.  
There was my inscription. The page was lightly waved and I could make out several spots that looked tear stained. I ran my fingers over them carefully.  
Without turning back around to him, without looking up, I asked:  
“Do I still?”  
If I thought the silence before was horrible, it was nothing compared to the silence now. I turned around to look at him, to make sure that he was still here. His eyes were fixed on me and he bit his bottom lip nervously.  
“Yes,” he finally admitted before looking down to the floor again.  
I put the book back, careful not to break it any more than it already was and made my way towards him.  
His hands were fidgeting nervously and I took them into mine, trying to make him look up, trying – no, needing to see the sincerity in his eyes.  
I placed one of his hands on my chest, over my beating heart that was thumping so loudly and forcefully that I almost wasn't able to speak.  
“You still have mine too,” I said.  
I placed my finger under his chin and softly made him look up.  
“If you want it.”  
Tears were forming in his eyes, making the blue seem like the sea in a storm. Dangerous and sure.  
He nodded and stood up. His hands wandered around my hips and he kept them there, until he leaned in.  
“Are you sure?” he asked again.  
I smiled.  
“Say my name,” I replied.  
“Merlin.”  
I kissed him.  
I buried my hands in his shirt and in that moment I vowed to myself that I would never let him go away ever again.


End file.
